


A Moment of Weakness

by hops



Series: Our Endless Numbered Days [6]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Bureau of Balance - Freeform, F/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hops/pseuds/hops
Summary: "After all, to Magnus, she was his boss. His distant, cold boss who he had only met months ago. Not a lover from a century of danger and adventure and great, great affection unlike any other. Nope, not that.Just his boss."(Or, the one where Magnus catches Madam Director at the Chug 'N Squeeze after hours and one thing leads to another.)(CONTAINS SPOILERS up to episode 66)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If this concept seems familiar (but not too familiar?) (but not too not-familiar) it's because @epersonae tackled this prompt from a different, but excellent, and more sad, angle. Shout out to wooden ducks anonymous for enabling me. 
> 
> I obviously took some liberties with making Magnus much less sad than usual re: Julia. I know. Don't @ me. 
> 
> If you're here for the porn, it's in the second part ;)

Being the Director of the Bureau of Balance sometimes had its perks. Lucretia's favorite of these perks was the keys to the Chug N' Squeeze. She enjoyed pottery but never had the time or place to practice it, until now, on the moon base. Things were at a bit of a lull: her reclaimers were back and training, waiting on their next mission, and she could breathe easy instead of constantly pacing her office. She often times would wait at Angus's shoulder, hoping that one of them would come through over the Stone of Farspeech. It filled her with anxiety and grief to think she was sending them into mortal danger without the promise of the Starblaster to revive them again at the end of the year but... they had to fix what they'd done. But sending her friends to Wonderland next, well, the idea petrified her. To think that they might have to endure even a fraction of what she'd experienced there...  

She took a deep breath in and let it out through her nose, focusing on the smooth wetness of the clay beneath her fingers.  _We are making a vase right now,_ she told herself firmly.  _We're not thinking about that._  

She carefully worked the neck of the vase, coaxing it up with her fingers to elongate it. She took her hands away for just a moment to consider how she should move the clay next.  

A sudden knock on the glass door across the room nearly made her jump out of her skin and into a spectral form. She looked up in mild panic and embarrassment, but found a secretly welcome sight peering in with a grin.  

Magnus.  

She got up and quickly rinsed her hands, heading for the door with a new flush of red creeping onto her cheeks. Another deep breath entered and exited her lungs. She needed to hide any and all emotion that might give her away. After all, to Magnus, she was his boss. His distant, cold boss who he had only met months ago. Not a lover from a century of danger and adventure and great, great affection unlike any other. Nope, not that.  

Just his boss.  

She made sure to craft a slight scowl on her lips as she unlocked the door and cracked it open to poke her head out to greet him. "Magnus, what are you doing up at this hour?"  

He chuckled and scratched the back of his head. She tried her hardest to push down the swell in her chest. "I couldn't sleep and sometimes it helps me to go for a run."  _Of course. He always did--_ "Sorry if I'm, uh, interrupting here."  

"That's alright. I was just..." Her cheeks burned red as she thought up a way to explain herself. "Ah... It's just nice to be here when it's empty. I like pottery. It's therapeutic, I suppose."  

Magnus smiled, polite but warm. "Well, don't let me interrupt you then."  

Her stomach tightened as he took a step to leave. "You're not interrupting, Magnus. Would you.... would you like to join me?"  

His eyes brightened under the campus lamplight. It was then that she noticed how tired his eyes looked. "How can I pass up time with the moon's best Director?"  

She smirked, opening the door wider and allowing him to walk past. "Magnus, I'm the moon's only Director."  

"Exactly! Which makes you the best!"  

She laughed. Despite everything he'd been through, he hadn't changed. He was still the same old Magnus. Still  _her_ Magnus. "Would you like something to drink?"  

He turned to her in surprise. "Open bar?"  

"I'll reimburse them in the morning. I'm sure it won't be an issue. How about wine?"  

"Surprise me."  

She popped open a dark red bottle as Magnus walked to the back of the studio, lit only by strings of Christmas lights and a few well-placed lamps overhead. As she poured them two (very full) glasses, she heard him admiring her work, which stood half-finished on the wheel.  

"We'll have to bring you back some flowers. This is really nice.... Madam." 

She sighed softly as she slid the wine glasses into her palms. Being alone with him was making her weak. It'd been so long... Just her name wouldn't hurt. She could maintain her distance but still feel close to him this way. "Lucretia is fine, Magnus. No need to be so formal when it's just us."  

"Are you sure?"  

She nodded, handing him a glass. He sat down at the wheel adjacent to hers and took a long sip of his wine. She'd noticed several times, in admiration, how much older he looked. How he'd aged in the last decade without her. On the Starblaster, they'd dreamt about someday growing old together. They mused about what it would feel like for their backs to ache, for wrinkles to touch their faces... after spending a century as young as they were, growing old felt like an impossibility.  

Her betrayal gave him a chance to have what they'd talked about. A normal life. Even if she couldn't have it with him, she was so glad he'd at least had a chance. Of course, she'd grown older too. Doubly so. But it was the opposite of how they'd ever imagined. Sending him to Wonderland entered her mind again and she quickly washed the thought away with a long gulp of wine.  

She placed a lump of clay onto his wheel and showed him how to operate the pedal, and how to shape the clay with his palms and thumbs. He picked up the rhythm naturally; he was, after all, quite the craftsman.  

They worked in the quiet for a while, both of them in their own meditative state of spinning and shaping and sipping their wine. Lucretia got up and poured them a second glass. Wine wasn't making the finer aspects of pottery any easier to do, but she persisted. What harm would a little more wine do? 

As the wheel spun and his creation leaned to the side in asymmetry, he turned to her for help once more.  

She finished off her second glass of wine, smudging the glass with greyish clay, and got up from her bench to help him. Her head spun a little, cloudy from the alcohol and from this entirely surreal situation. It'd been so  _long_ since she'd been alone with him. The last time they were alone, he'd caught her feeding that last journal to Fischer... 

She pursed her lips and steadied her mildly-drunken thoughts. She couldn't veer off into that train of thinking. She didn't want to waste this quiet moment with the friend, the lover, she had missed so much. Why throw away their alone time agonizing over the past? 

She sighed to herself before crouching beside him to help him with the clay. When  _wasn't_ she agonizing over the past?  

"You want to go a little slower. Don't rush."  

Magnus flushed, smiling a little.  _Gods, he's still so handsome._ "I'm bad at that."  

 _I know,_ she wanted to say, desperately. Instead, she pursed her lips and watched intently as he slowed the speed of the wheel and worked his fingers against the clay.  

Maybe it was the wine, or the rush of being alone with him, or maybe it was simply impulse. She laid her hand over his own.  

"Gentle," she said, softly. Almost sensually. It shocked her as it left her mouth.  

She pulled her hand away. Magnus looked at her with a lopsided smile, unfazed by what had just sent her reeling. "Sorry, woodworking is almost the opposite of this most of the time." He laughed a little, mostly to himself. "Sharp tools and enough force to shape something hard and all."  

All the time he'd spent carving those damn wooden ducks came rushing to her mind. The last one he'd made for her still lay locked away in a drawer in her desk.  

"It's okay," she said, instead of saying anything that was on her mind. "Want more wine?"  

"I shouldn't, but why not!" Magnus grinned.  

This was a bad idea.  

Three glasses became four, and four became five, and by then they'd both given up on their clay and cleaned up sloppily (she would come back tomorrow, sober, and make sure the studio was how she found it before it opened) and instead sat across from each other at their wheels. Somehow, her feet had wound up propped on his bench, beside his lap. They were laughing through another one of Magnus' stories about Taako charming some poor tavern-goers into a rigged game of cards.  

"I shouldn't be telling you this!" Magnus exclaimed with a belly laugh.  

She giggled, secretly rejoicing in the sound. She'd missed him so, so much. "I promise, Magnus, this is all off-record." Being drunk made it hard to maintain the necessary demeanor of Madam Director. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to maintain it. 

All of her better judgment had left her at glass number four. She pressed one of her ankles against Magnus' thigh and, just as she'd expected, he took her feet into his lap. The thrill of this alone was enough to send her head spinning. It'd been so long,  _it'd_ _been so long,_ and here they were... He was talking about Merle. She wanted to listen, but her heartbeat was hammering in her eardrums.  

He rested a large hand over one of her shins and smiled warmly. "It's so nice to just... drink, you know? And not worry about all the rest of the stuff that's going on." 

"I know. I really needed a break."  

"You know, I like spending time with you." As the words left his mouth, her stomach nearly fell to her feet. He cleared his throat as his thumb traced a little circle on her leg. "Lucretia."  

She swallowed, unable to get a word out of her mouth.  

"It just seems like you're lonely. I dunno. It's easy to get caught up in your work- I get it, I do. But you have to take a break sometimes."  

"Uh huh." Her cheeks were burning. She prayed he wouldn't notice.  

She needed to put a stop to this. She  _had to._ If she allowed herself any more closeness than this, she was risking everything she'd worked for. But she was drunk. She was drunk, and she just didn't care any more. She'd missed him so much. That old ache in her chest, the one that she'd learned to swallow down and ignore, was sitting like a knot in her throat now. She felt herself pulled to him, just as she had been a hundred, thousand times before in the century they'd spent together.  

Magnus was quiet, looking at her with fondness. What was he thinking about?  

"It is lonely..." She said. It was as if her mind was telling her one thing for sake of the mission, but her heart, drunk as it was, couldn't stop testing the waters. "I appreciate your efforts to keep me company."  

It was clumsy. She'd forgotten what flirting, even with him, entailed. Soon, there was going to be a point of no return. It terrified her, but within her was the thrill of even a chance. Just a touch of his hand. Just one kiss, it wouldn't hurt, they could just call it a drunk mistake and live with the stiff and uncomfortable meetings for the time being.  

Who knows if she'd see him again after Wonderland, anyway. Her heart ached for him. Her body followed suit.  

As palm flexed against her leg and slid forward slightly, her heart leapt into her throat.  

In a heartbeat, she pulled her legs from his lap and stood in front of him and, mustering all of her drunken bravery, put a hand on either side of his face. He didn't stop her. Her breath splashed against his cheekbones.  _Gods, I missed you,_ she thought, taking in the sight of his face. Of the new scars she couldn't protect him from. Of the thrilled and bewildered look in his eyes.  

She kissed him, quick but firm. It felt exactly how she remembered, like a hundred years of secretive smiles and tears and worries and adventures and love. He tasted of wine.  

"Lucretia," he breathed against her lips as she pulled away. Her heart clenched tightly as the enraptured gasp she drew into her lungs shocked her with a thousand memories more.  

To her surprise, she commanded, "kiss me," in a breathless tone. Magnus obliged, guiding her lips against his with the same tenderness and care that she'd come to expect from him. Her head spun, a side effect of the wine and the surreal action she was taking for herself. She lowered herself into his lap. Her hands found purchase on his back; the muscles beneath his shirt rippled under her hands as they moved together. His mouth moved urgently, each kiss parting just a little wider until his tongue had just slightly found hers. She moaned, despite herself, into his open mouth. By the small of her back, he clutched her tighter.  

Her head swam, trying desperately to focus on him. He reached for her hands on his face and held them. Their fingers entwined as he kissed her deeper, deeper now, pressing himself to her and pulling her closer so their chests pressed together. His hands were calloused by the years of woodworking, and then adventuring, he'd done. But they were still his hands, large and familiar. He used one to pull her close again, smoothed up her back to caress the side of her face. She pulled away from their kiss for just a moment, panting against his parted lips. Tears pricked at her eyes.  

He was  _here._ He was home. He was  _kissing her_ again.  

"Everything okay?" he asked softly. So familiar. Sickly sweet and tender. 

His finger traced over her ear as if to push back her hair, but she'd cropped it short years ago. With an ache, she silently wondered if it was just muscle memory. Wondered if maybe, just maybe, despite the carefully calculated meal she had given to the Voidfish, he could somehow remember their love.  

"Yes," she breathed, her words smothered by another rough kiss.  

Before long and despite her better judgment, her hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled slightly, testing her luck. She knew not to push further.  _She knew better_ than to take this kind of risk, but god, she'd spent the last 12 years entirely, exhaustingly alone. She deserved a break. Just one night. Just one singular selfish thing to remind her of why she'd devoted herself and herself only to saving the world.  

 _Magnus._  

He lifted her, easily but clumsily, with her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. Breathlessly, he turned and pressed her back to the wall.  

There was so much she wanted to say. So much in her heart and her mind and her  _soul_ that screamed for her to blurt out the memories that overcame her. She felt herself coming apart into the very silver strings that had pulled them all back together every new cycle. His hands, his eyes, his smile against her lips. The small hitch in his breath each time she took his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged in the motion she'd come to memorize. She knew every inch of him, everything he liked, when and where and how.  

And he didn't know her at all.  

She slipped down so her feet were touching the floor, interrupting their embrace once again to try to collect herself before she fell apart.  

"We can stop if you want," Magnus offered, their faces very close together. "I know it's--" 

"No!" She blurted out. The wine still had the better of her. "No, no. This is fine, it's just... Been... Quite some time since I..."  

He seemed to be holding something back. "Yeah. Me too."  

She swallowed. He didn't know she knew about Julia. Her heart broke for him all over again. For a moment, she debated calling the whole thing off. Doing the responsible thing, walking away from this one and only chance. Before she could think any further, he pressed her to the wall and ran a hand down her chest and around her side. He craned to kiss her neck.  

She couldn't stop the moan that came bubbling from her lips. Maybe she wasn't saying no to this after all. She couldn't.  

"Magnus," she whispered, writhing between his body and the wall as he drove her wild, suckling gently down her neck and onto her collarbone and breast. " _Magnus."_  

His chuckle rumbled warmly between them. "That's me."  

 _Fuck me,_ she wanted to say, desperately. Like they used to after the long, long years apart when one of them died too soon. She only had a small handle on the wine's influence, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she took two fistfuls of his shirt and brought his mouth back to her own.  

When she felt him against her thigh, her teeth found her own bottom lip. Her hand reached, just slightly, heart twisting and bracing for a rejection. She needed this. She needed him, more than anything, more than ever before. It felt like coming home after a decade in the desert.  

"No," Magnus breathed, taking her wrist. Her heart froze, then shattered.  

Her breath left her in an embarrassed rush. "I'm sorry."  

Magnus shook his head quickly, pushing another urgent kiss to her mouth. "No, I mean, just... Not here. I don't—Let's do this the right way, okay? Taako and Merle are already asleep and you can--"  

Her heart leapt back into action. "No, we can go to my quarters." A few more heated kisses. "Come on." 


	2. Chapter 2

In the dark of her bedroom, he unclasped her cloak and let it fall to pool at her ankles. They undressed in a heated flurry of kisses and fumbling hands, the sound of fabric dropping to the floor in a hurry punctuating their sighs and giggles. She pushed him back playfully onto the bed where he bounded backwards onto the mattress. Only the glow of lamplight through her windows gave away the shape of his body. New to her now, he was stronger. New scars had formed on his chest, his legs, his arms. And his hands... so rough, as she'd noted on the clay.  

Her body had changed too, but he was none the wiser. She pushed the thought, and the self-consciousness it contained, to the back of her mind.  

Instead, he spoke as she climbed on top of him to straddle his hips.  

"You're beautiful," he said with wonder.  

She held back yet another urge to cry. It felt like reliving a new memory. Some piece of an impossible future she'd never dreamt she'd have. His voice drew her attention back once again. Between the cloudy dizziness of the wine and the overwhelming nature of everything else, it was nearly impossible to focus.  

"Are you okay?"  

He was always checking on her. That never changed. Even day-to-day around the Bureau, he was always jogging up behind her, always at the door of her office, always offering her a seat in the cafeteria. Always looking at her fondly with those greenish eyes.  

She nodded, bending down to kiss him with a small drag of her hips over his. She'd blame her eagerness on the wine. "Better than okay."  

He smiled against her mouth. "Hope you're ready, then."  

Without another word, he flipped them so she was beneath him and spread her legs with one hand. He dropped to the side of the bed on his knees and pulled her forward with ease. _Gods_ help her, he hadn't changed one bit, starting her out like this. It had always been his favorite, driving her up the wall right out of the gate. He was quite good at it.  

Her persistent tears formed once again in her eyes as he kissed up her thighs and found her wet for him already. His voice buzzed through her hipbones as he spoke, so close to her skin.  

There was a sly smile in his voice. "Looks like you've been ready." He kissed her clit lightly, then moved his mouth down over her with a soft sigh. As he moved his tongue over her, her hand found its way into his hair, knotting and pulling eagerly.  

It'd been  _so long._ Too long. But it felt as though he'd never even left her bed.  

Her head spun. The room spun. His tongue felt like heaven against her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been drunk, never mind the last time she'd had an orgasm. And between the alcohol, his tongue, and the pulse-pounding thrill of  _this-is-actually-happening_ thrumming through her body, she was nearly about to lose what little composure she had left and just succumb to the pleasure entirely.  

_Not yet,_ she commanded herself, but wavered as he sucked gently on her and easily hooked one of his fingers- gods, those thick, workman's fingers- inside. She made a noise, on reflex, unholy and loud. 

And again, his wicked smile against her skin.  

" _Magnus,"_ she whimpered, strangled, as her hips buckled beneath his mouth. A second finger joined the first. "Please, please, not yet, I--"  

He withdrew for a moment and pulled himself up onto the bed, pressing his forehead to hers. His thumb touched her bottom lip and she immediately pulled it into her mouth. His forefinger followed. She could taste herself on his fingertips as she sucked. He pulled away so he could watch her.  

"Hmm?" He tried to smirk, but she could see him unraveling. She slid her tongue along the fingertip and let it free from her mouth with a wet  _pop!_ He exhaled hard through his nose. After a pause, he spoke again. "You think I could make you cum more than once?"   

 She entwined her fingers with his wet ones, tongue darting over her bottom lip. She  _knew_ he could, but she couldn't say that.  

"You could try," she challenged instead.  

It wasn't long after that. His fingers returned to their original position inside of her with a renewed fervor. She didn't even need his mouth; he instead elected to focus on her neck, leaving marks as he went. Using teeth. She arched her back to press tighter to him, moving against him just to get a little bit closer. No closeness was enough. Pressure built in the pit of her stomach, radiating up her spine and down to the valley of her hips. She leaned desperately into every touch, needing just a little more, just a little harder, just a little deeper. She moved up to grasp for his back, pulling them chest-to-chest and bringing his mouth, messy and desperate and gasping, back to her own.  

She came hard and sudden, throbbing around his fingers as they beckoned inside her at a steady pace. That smile, again now, pressed against her neck as he murmured something into her skin, praising her, coaxing more and more of her pleasure out of her. Her wetness pooled in the palm of his broad hand as he pressed the heel up to her clit, bringing a second wave crashing over her body. The room spun as she clutched herself to him, moaning and panting, breathing out his name like a prayer she'd forgotten to forget.  _Magnus, Magnus, Magnus._  

Magnus.  

She came back to his voice anchoring her as he lowered her back down to the mattress. "I've got you," he said softly, fondly, tenderly. It nearly broke her heart. She reached, drunkenly, for his cheek so she could kiss him again.  

Her other hand found him hard as she kissed him, pulling a soft moan from his mouth and into her own. "Let me," she whispered, stroking him just a tiny bit. He shook his head.  "Why?" The word left her as a breathless moan, close to exasperation.  

"Let me take care of you," he said. His jaw twitched in the dim light from the window as she stroked a little more. She could see on his face that he needed this. It wasn't the first time; there had been times, those rough, angry, anguished, tired years, when he'd find relief in her body, being able to focus on her and only her. Making her feel something good, he'd explained laying next to her decades ago, helped him feel more in control. She knew instinctually that this was one of those times.  

"Okay," she breathed, knowing full well what was coming next.  

She let go of him and let him have control again, looking up at him intently as he moved with her to return her head to the pillows.  

"Do you have...?"  

No, she didn't have condoms, and neither did he. Neither of them thought that this would be a remote possibility. She wasn't so sure that pregnancy was a concern after their century and after Wonderland, but he didn't know that. He didn't know  _any_ of that. The train of thought nearly pulled her from their moment before her brought her back with a tip of her chin with his thumb and forefinger.  

"I'll be careful," he promised. She nodded.  

She watched, heavy-lidded, as he positioned himself over her and palmed himself. His shoulders rose and fell as he panted softly in their silence. He rubbed the head against her, first to get himself slick, then to tease her clit. She couldn't hold in the groan that left her that parted her gritted teeth.  

He hummed in confirmation of her pleasure. He reached up to touch her cheek but his fingers found their way to her mouth once more, where she took them in greedily to taste herself. This time, he moaned, looking weak. She could see him losing his composure, lips pressed into a hard line, jaw tightening once again. He resorted to teasing her again to tip the balance of who was falling apart faster now. He ghosted a wet line across her cheekbone and behind her ear.  _Muscle memory._  

It was driving her insane, the waiting. She'd waited a decade for him to come home. She'd had enough.  

" _Fuck me,_ " she demanded, voice just barely wavering in her throat.  

His smile was gone, replaced by a look of absolute desperation. "Anything you want."  

He paused for just a moment, then entered her slowly, taking in the hitch that interrupted the drawing of her breath. He made a sound like all the breath was knocked from him, punctuated by a sharp gasp. "Fuck, Lucretia."  

Her throat felt tight; her heart pounded wildly in her chest. He pushed all the way in, slowly. Agonizingly so. He filled her just as she remembered, that same old singe of heat that pooled in her belly and spread through her thighs as he pushed in to the hilt. Her eyes fluttered closed as she railed back against the bed. His name beat through her like a hummingbird's wings, coming and going before she could process it. She reached up and held onto his back again, just wanting to be close to him. He kissed her hard.  

They settled into a steady pace, each thrust bringing more and more urgent sounds from Magnus. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and moaned. The sound, and his sideburns, sent vibrations tickling through her spine. His thrusts moved through her body, beginning to hit her where it counted. She could feel it building in her already, so soon, that same feeling that'd come just minutes ago.  _He can't. Not now._ Back on the Starblaster, he'd almost made a sport out of seeing how many times he could get her to cum, but that was then. That was when they had unlimited time, and he knew everything about her body, what she liked, and when, and where, and how. And now, he didn't know her. Right? 

 To her dismay, he pulled out as he himself in one hand. He was flushed pink and sweating, bathed in the light of the window, looking desperate once again.  

"I'm sorry," he panted, nearly gasping for breath. "I—I don't want to--"  

She knew that look. It wouldn't be long.  

She moved to take him into her palm once more and guide him back inside her. "It's okay," she whispered, breathless. "I'm close too."  

He slipped back inside her, furious with need. He didn't hesitate this time. Their pace quickened, along with their breath, along with the spinning of the room and her head and her thoughts. Each movement, each noise, each carefully but urgently placed touch and kiss sent her reeling, pulled all of the heat in her body into the meeting of her thighs. She writhed beneath the weight of him. It felt so... _right._ So familiar. Her heart beat wildly in her ribcage. She opened her eyes to meet his as he gazed down at her, desperate, begging, so, so starving for her. 

She knew the feeling intimately. It was one she'd become familiar with as she ached for him, first alone on the Starblaster, then alone, more permanently, on the moon. It was a different kind of hunger, one that was all-consuming and all at once. An absolute need, driven by desire. By love. Could the Voidfish really erase that feeling? How did he know exactly how she liked her neck kissed when he fucked her? How did he know when and how much to use those fingers—(oh, those goddamnedthick fingers-- she nearly lost her composure but focused on the look on his face,) to tease her at just the right time.  _Muscle memory._ She felt her knees turning to jello, thighs trembling, hands trying to find something, anything to hold onto.  

His mouth met hers messily, wet and hot on her lips, her tongue, sucking, kissing, then down over her chin and her jaw and that same fucking  _spot_ on her  _neck_ and there was no way he didn't know what he was doing, no way he  _didn't remember this,_ recreating the same way they'd done this so many times before. With a few more thrusts, a few more motions of those fingers, a few more moans, the heat within her exploded, electrically, once again. She pushed her hips forward, taking as much of him as she could, not knowing if she'd get another chance at this moment. Her mind blanked; all worries, all doubts, all memories, just gone. Just her and Magnus. Magnus, pulling her orgasm from her so easily. Magnus, moaning against her skin. Magnus, still fucking her steadily, those big hands gripping her hips now, pulling her down, shaking, throbbing, writhing,  _begging:_ Magnus. Magnus.  

_Magnus._  

"Oh, fuck, Lucretia--" Magnus cursed, strained but soft. He made a noise, long and loud, like the wind had been knocked from him twice as hard as before. Involuntary. All at once, he pulled from her and finished against her thigh, crumpling over and leaning on his free hand. " _Lucretia,"_ and her name left his mouth again, hoarse and pleading and so familiar. Like coming home. 

For a moment, they were young again. They were laying in her bed, in her quarters on the Starblaster, their red uniforms in a heap on the floor. For a moment, they were clutching at each other on the deck after a long season apart. Sharing a shrouded smile at dinner. They were on the beach. They were reading in bed. Kissing goodnight. Laughing together. For a moment, she was guiding him to the floor as he forgot her name, calling out, "no, no, no."  _I love you, Magnus._  

Magnus.  

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his and tears she hadn't noticed came rolling down her cheek to the pillow below. His wide-eyed concern broke her heart. She conjured a strangled smile to comfort him and touched his cheek, just below the eye that used to re-appear black and blue every cycle.  

"Are you okay?" He asked, as if he'd done something wrong. Her heart ached beneath this still-quickened rise and fall of her breast. Still slick with sweat. Shaking.  

She took a moment to steady her voice. "I'm okay, Magnus. Thank you."  

She nestled her head into his chest, tucking her chin so her breath splashed off his skin and flushed her cheeks warm once again. Magnus was somewhat of a personal space heater. Always warm, just like she remembered. She'd spent countless nights tucked beneath his arm, a little too hot, but too content to move away from him.  

They were quiet for a long time. She feared the moment it would all end.  

She stirred a little against him as she fought the dark cloud of sleep that began to take her. Between the wine and the orgasm, she was exhausted.  

Finally, Magnus spoke. "Should I... go?"  

She pursed her lips. He  _should_ go. As her sleepiness left her, she found herself sobered and holding back more tears. The last thing she wanted him to do was leave now. But with a clearer head, she knew that he should.  

"I... I think it might be best." Her heart ached, a pain so fierce she feared he may feel it too.  _Not that I want you to,_ she wanted to say, so badly. She kept her lips pursed.  

He separated from her, leaving her still slick with sweat and cold without the heat of his skin beside her. She pulled the sheets around her as he dressed in silence.  

He cleared his throat, pulling on his socks first. "So are we gonna, uh, have to talk about this?"  

She smiled a little. "Not if you don't want to."  

"Probably for the best." He paused as he pulled on his shirt. "Uh, rank and all. Madam."  

She maintained the bemused smile on her lips, but it was practiced. The Director was laying in her bed now, looking at her employee. Not Lucretia. Not Magnus.  _What were you thinking?_  

She'd let herself have a moment of weakness. Just one moment, and she'd almost sent her whole plan crumbling down. It was selfish, it was stupid, it was-- 

He finished dressing and bent down to place a tender kiss on her mouth, lingering for just one last moment. "Sorry," he grinned, flushing red. "Just one more. I couldn't help myself. Okay, okay, I'm leaving."  

The wall she'd so eagerly torn down in her drunken haste was back, magically reassembled and keeping him at arms-length once more. The Director's smile touched her lips, polite and foreign. She already ached for his presence once more, and he wasn't even gone yet.  

His kiss remained tingling on her mouth. One small souvenir of her one small lapse of better judgment. "Goodnight, Magnus."  

"Goodnight, Madam Director. Ma'am.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my Emotional Cheerleaders for enabling this absolute monster.   
> @maegnus on tumblr if you'd like an invite to the magcretia discord chat!   
> Comments and kudos are appreciated bc I love validation  
> Thanks!!!


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